I’d be a liar if I said the next part of the climb didn’t strike me with fear, but, I was actually quite impressed with how I able to persist in my scramble up Swirral Edge.

Free-moving, but nervous all the same, I embarked on what I believe to be a 500 metre long scramble up the edge to the summit of Helvellyn. 500 metres doesn’t sound far but when you’re afraid of heights, and either side of the edge is a very steep (albeit not vertical) slope, it’s miles.

Paying the utmost attention to the hand and foot holds along the ridge, whilst keeping my head down (as the wind was doing it’s best to blow me off the mountain!), I still found myself captivated by the surrounding view either side of this rugged terrain. I finally reached the top and was able to breathe a sigh of relief, taking in the incredible landscape from the top of Helvellyn. Stunning.

Far and wide you could see the lay of the land, where giant natural forces had clashed to create huge folds in the fabric driving hills and mountains skywards. Lakes were also visible, scattered across the landscape shimmering in the sunlight.

Groups of cloud cast rolling shadows across the hills as they moved lazily in the sky. We really couldn’t have asked for better weather, as the overcast cloud that had dulled the climb broke away into sunlight when we reached the summit.

Standing there surveying Swirral Edge and Striding Edge, you can see why these routes have injured, sometimes fatally, unlucky climbers over the years as they are a tough scramble to navigate. The last snows of winter were still present as we stood atop Helvellyn, shining bright in the spring sunshine.